


Is this what you really want?

by TheycallmeVintinneOWO



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Mey Rin stuff, Mindfuck, Original work - Freeform, more dreams n stuff, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:16:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheycallmeVintinneOWO/pseuds/TheycallmeVintinneOWO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random story I wrote for my writing class. I sort of made it into Black Butler. (Discretely, of course. I took liberites, such as Mey Rin being named Marlene, etc. etc.) Not beta-ed. As always, interpret as you wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is this what you really want?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Mey Rin has been cahnged to Marlene. Or it can be a simple story of the boy who became a butterfly.

Perhaps she had always been like this. She didn't really know. After all, she had been like this for... Well. It appears she didn't remember. Number 2390 tilted her head and stared at the slip of light coming from a crack in the door. She liked light. It made things so much nicer for her. She was startled awake from her daze by the rattling of keys and chains, then something scraping across the floor. She peered at it and sniffed it. It was food. Just as she was about to lunge, she froze. No, no, no, no. Not right at all. Walking all the way back to the wall, she looked at it again from a distance. Her vision was much clearer now.  
It was bread and soup. Pea soup. She hated pea soup. But it wasn't that that irritated her. it was the obvious smell of a drug. Number 2390 had a very good nose. They truly thought she was that foolish? She shrugged, sitting down on the dirt as loud voices passed her cell. Cockney. Number 2390 frowned. That's not right. As far as she knew it, she was in Japan... What would they be doing here, of all places? Perhaps they assisted her captors? She shook her head, not bothering to get up. She couldn't see anything outside the crack anyways. Sighing, she adjusted her pale red hair carefully, rubbing her eyes and trying to straighten her apron.  
Prisoner or not, she still had her dignity. If they were going to talk to her now, she might as well show them she wasn't afraid...  
"Hello."  
Nuber 2390 squeaked, scrambling backwards to the wall in a hopeless effort to escape from the voice. Eyes scrunched tight, she clenched her fists. "Wh-eh-'oo ar' ye?" She stuttered out in a strong cockney accent of her own. The overwhelming scent of condescend filled the room and Number 2390 gagged.  
"Open your eyes." "An' why should I?" She snapped back, concentrating very hard on not looking at anything. But sooner or later, something came over her. It was a nice, relaxing presence. Like... Like bathing in lilies. Or somethin'. Number 2390 didn't know about very many things that could feel as glorius as this. She was smart, though! Her train of thought was intterupted abruptly as she opened her eyes. She was no longer in the prison cell.  
She was sitting in a field of tall, soft white grass, with grey-shaded plants here and there. In the distance, a black and gold tree sat on a hill, branches rustling softly in the wind. But most beautiful of all was her. A pale, young, peaceful-looking girl tilted her head and smiled. Boy, 'er eyes 'er lovley. Indeed they were. A soft hazel, yellow flecks flittering across her irises, she looked like and angel with long, white braided hair and a soft, simple gown. She looked incredibley young however, not a wrinkle on her. Why, she was practically a girl!  
Number 2390 peered at her anxiously. "Where am I?" She queried, still slightly wary. But the scent coming from that tree was intoxicating....  
"The middle grounds." The little girl smiled again. "Wot'sat?" She asked, coming to her senses slightly. But this place is so beaut'ful.... No. Something felt wrong here.  
"The middle grounds are the grounds between dream, and reality. You have been dreaming, 2390. But that isn't your real name, is it?"  
Number 2390 froze. "Well. I spose it ain't, idn't it?!" She said, slightly astonished. She wondered if she ever even had a name....  
"No, it's not. Not here. Here, you have no name. We know you simply by your face. But you do have another name in a nother dream. Or is perhaps another reality?" Number 2390 seemed slightly confused by this. "Wot'r ye talkin' abou'?" She asked suspiciously.  
"Have you ever wondered if you ever truly were in that world? If it was all a dream? Or perhaps... Perhaps this is your reality. Or maybe another..." The pale girl trailed off as a picture appeared in the grasses. Number 2390 gasped. It was quite a beautiful sight.  
It showed a sunny London, Merchants calling their wares to the ladies in gowns passing by. Men in suits and ridiculous top hats teetered by, remarking on politics and enterprises. Young children raced through the streets, laughing. However, even this world had it's negatives. A crying little girl dressed in rags behind a bin in a side-alley. A whimpering pup, scrambling for sraps as fast as it's scrawny body would allow. A sullen, silent boy with an eyepatch walking alone on the street but for a servant beside him, and his ringers sparkled with family crests and whatnot. However, sad, hungry, empty as all of these different people may have been, they all had the same, familiar look in their eyes. 2390 just couldn't place it...  
"Perhaps this was your world all along?"  
Marlene awoke with a jerk, almost hitting her head on the brick wall behind her. "Are you awright, miss?" It was her.  
The little girl from the picture in the grasses.  
Marlene blinked. What an odd dream. She thought, then looked outside. It was all the same. 17th Century London at it's finest. The girl-- she remembered just now her name. Rebbeca. And the dog, it was hers... The boy, she remembered Rebbeca telling her he was an orphan. A rich one, though. Big ole house fire, she said. Marlene smiled. "O' course, lil' one. "  
"But are you?" Marlene jerked. It was the pale girl again, sat next to her, staring dazedly at the streets. "Wot now, eh?" She snapped, backing away slightly. She didn't like this. The girl smiled, somewhat apologetically. "You can decide which is your world. Dream, or reality. One will burn and the other will stay. If you choose the reality which happens to be a dream, you will be burned with it."  
Marlene shook her head. "But... I dinnae..." She frowned, staring at all the people who had frozen in the time that the girl had spoken. It was like a portrait, she decided.  
"You have an hour."  
She whirled around. The pale girl was nowhere to be seen, the scene was still frozen. Mouth wide open, she walk around, peering at the statue-like people. Two women in the middle of a heated debate made a very funny sight when frozen upon rage-faces. A man falling into a puddle made a surprisingly beautiful sight, the water flew in all directions and froze. Marlene felt as though she could touch it, and it would ripple in the air.  
The young boy, most likely an Earl, or large business owner by the expensive look of his clothes and the famous company seal and family coat of arms on his rings, looked rather annoyed by the bouncy blonde girl in a pink, ruffled dress next to him. The servant looked quite unfazed, standing stone-still as if to hope that indeed he was a statue. Marlene wouldn't blame him. The boy looked positivley enraged. At least on the inside.  
Marlene poked him. "Ello?"  
All of the sudden, everythign started moving again. Colors returned-- Marlene hadn't even noticed that everything was black and white...--, People started to talk, the women threw insults, the man sputtered and his drunken friends laughed as they helped him up, and the boy looked at her sharply. "This way, Master?" The servant asked, referring to Alans Street in a soft, lilting English accent. "Fine." The boy said somewhat arrogantly. The girl squealed and followed them, prattling on about chess or something of the like.  
Marlene turned to the girl, Rebbeca, who smiled sweetly at her. Marlene smiled back, walking through the streets.  
"Oi, Marlene! Where've ye been, common inside!" A ruddy-faced woman yelled from a cottage.  
"O' course, mum!" Marlene hollered back, grinning wildly. She raced towards the cottage, flinging open the door and--

She stopped.  
The grin wasn't there anymore.

She couldn't open the door.  
She looked wildly around. Stone walls enclosed her. A sliver of light. A drugged dish. Number 2390 sighed.  
A dream.  
Just a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Interpret as you wish again. I like to think of it as fic!Meta!Inspiration. I got the idea from Lau's story of the Butterfly who became a boy. (Or the boy who became a butterfly.)


End file.
